Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
He nods. “Because I hope you’ll consider moving in with me.”
“What?”
My brain hadn’t had the chance to think this far in advance. I didn’t dream of him asking me to move in with him. I’m caught off guard and I don’t know what to say.
“I’m not pressuring you,” he says, “I’ve waited over ten years. I can wait a few more. Theoretically.” He winks. “But, as far as I’m concerned, we both live here. The only reason I’m not asking you to marry me is because I know you’ll say no. But, I hope that one day, you’ll say yes.”
“Ripley.” I blow out a breath, surprised. “I don’t know what to say.”
“The word yes would be good.”
I consider his request. Is it too fast? Is it the right choice? Do I want to do this?
Slowly, the answer becomes clear.
This is my dream—the one thing I’ve been too scared to even dream of. But Sutton apparently manifested this for me. How can I say no?
I won’t. I’m going to say yes. But I can’t give in that easy.
“I have demands,” I say.
“Name them.”
“Pancakes. I want a puppy named Pancakes,” I say, thinking on my feet.
“Fine.”
“No more hiking. Ever.”
He snorts. “Trust me. That’s already done. I’ll never hike with you again.”
“Sugar.” This one will get him riled up. “I need sugar in my life, Ripley.”
He grins mischievously, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s terrible for you.”
“So? I’ve been eating it for thirty years. I think stopping sugar at this point would probably shock my system and make me die. Do you want to be responsible for that?”
“Maybe we can find some healthy candy and snacks.”
I shake my head. “No. I want real candy. Chocolate. Sugar for my coffee.”
Waffles paws at me until I follow him to his snack drawer. He’s such a smart little thing.
“Some chips—not all the time,” I say. “And chicken nuggets. Oh! Frozen pizzas are literally half of my diet. I can’t just never see one again.”
I pull open the drawer where Waffles’s snacks are kept and get him a treat.
“Do you want a drink?” I ask Ripley.
He shakes his head, amused.
“So where do we stand on this food issue?” I ask, needling him until he responds. His lack of participation in this conversation is no fun. “We can barter.”
“Grab me some sunflower seeds, will ya? I just bought a new bag.”
“Sure. Sunflower seeds aren’t a bad snack, but they’re not really a snack. I think we just need to redefine what a snack is to you.”
I open the pantry and burst out laughing. “No, you did not!”
Then I open the refrigerator and freezer and laugh even harder.
Tears flow down my cheeks in a mix of both humor, surprise, and love.
Not only are there cookies, but there’s a bag of real sugar. Fruity cereal. Frozen pizzas and chicken nuggets.
All of my favorite things are here—including my most favorite of all. Him.
“Looks like I’m moving in,” I say, dropping the phone as Ripley grabs me into a hug.
“It pains me to have that junk in my house, you know.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
Waffles barks at the commotion, making me laugh.
Ripley’s mouth is on mine. His hands on the waistband of my shorts and then his lips trail down the side of my neck as if he has to touch me everywhere immediately.
“Hey,” I say, giggling as he kisses the crook of my neck. “You better stop filming, or this is going to be X-rated really quick.”
He pulls back, smiling from ear to ear. He picks up my phone and hands it to me, and then I shut it off.
“I love you, Ripley Brewer,” I say, beaming with happiness.
“Not as much as I love you, Peaches Hayes.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Georgia
“This bothers you, doesn’t it?” I take a large bite of a white chocolate macadamia nut cookie and then lay my head in the crook of Ripley’s arm. “Cookies in your bed. I bet you’re dying a little inside.”
He hums against my hair. “After going all week and not seeing you, and not being certain I ever would again, you can eat whatever the hell that you want to eat in our bed as long as you’re in it.”
I grin at the our bed line. All night, he keeps slipping little things like that into our conversations. It’s our bed. Our home. Our puppy, Waffles. It’s so damn cute, that’s what it is.
Ripley ran us a bath after he properly welcomed me home, and we sat in the gigantic tub for over an hour just being together. I agreed to let him help move my things tomorrow, which is much faster than I anticipated when I said yes. I hesitated and almost pushed back. Then I remembered that life’s too damn short to keep waiting. Waiting for what, anyway? Time to overthink things? Time to scare the shit out of myself? Time for something to go wrong?